


the way you see me

by heronxdaisy



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, London, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heronxdaisy/pseuds/heronxdaisy
Summary: The two times James Herondale kissed a girl at a party and every chance encounter in between.
Relationships: Cordelia Carstairs & James Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	1. the first kiss

**Author's Note:**

> hello! there's several lists of realistic college au prompts on tumblr that i stumbled upon recently and this is how this fic was born. each chapter will be based on a prompt from those lists, but there will be general storyline. not sure how many chapters this fic will end up having, but i hope you enjoy!

_prompt #1: my friend dragged me to this party and i just saw my ex quick make out with me_

James Herondale was _not_ having fun.

He was standing in a corner of the bar with a half-empty can of beer in his hand that wasn’t even his and was generally trying not to get trampled by the crowd. Matthew, who had passed his can of beer to James with a smirk and a pat on the back, was busy flirting with a blonde girl he had probably met five minutes before. His other two companions, Thomas and Christopher, were nowhere in sight. This left James alone and feeling very much out of place.

It hadn’t even been his idea to come to the bar tonight. That, like their every other nightly outing, had been all Matthew. James had been hanging out with Christopher and Thomas in their flat’s kitchen, relieved to be back in London for his second year of university with his friends after what had been a very frustrating and miserable summer, when Matthew had strutted in with a flyer in his hand and a wicked smile plastered on his face. As soon as he had seen his expression, James had known his evening was about to be ruined.

“We’re going to a party,” Matthew had announced, still smiling.

James had protested, of course, but Matthew was having none of it. “Come _on_ ,” he had said, sliding down into a chair next to James and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You might actually learn how to have fun for a change, Jamie.”

James had scoffed. Matthew was his best friend, had been his best friend for the past decade, but his definition of fun managed to drive James insane even on a good day. It didn’t help that Thomas and Christopher were unable to resist Matthew when he was grinning wickedly at them. That was exactly what was happening and James had known he’d be forced to go regardless of what he had to say.

“And,” Thomas had interjected, a smile blossoming on his face, “who knows, you might even meet someone new.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Matthew had said, getting to his feet, while James had been starring daggers at Thomas. Thomas had only shrugged, still smiling. “That’s the spirit, Tom. Lord knows our Jamie here needs to get over her most royal pain in the ass Grace Cartwright.”

James had thrown a spoon in Matthew’s general direction while his two other friends had laughed. The truth was, he didn’t want to talk about Grace. He didn’t want to think about her at all, because thinking about her would bring back all the misery he had felt that past summer and he had been determined to leave that behind when he had returned to London.

This was how, two nights later, James was cursing his entire existence at the party. He didn’t understand what the other students found appealing about this place. It was the most popular bar on campus, but the place was overcrowded, overheated and the alcohol was disgusting and overpriced. It was freshers’ week too, which meant that the already overcrowded bar was even more packed than usual, if that was even humanely possible.

James looked at the clock on the opposite side of the room and groaned. It was just past midnight. Their night was nowhere near close to ending.

“Do you think we’ll see Matthew again tonight?” Christopher asked him, appearing out of nowhere to stand beside him.

“You know how Matthew gets, Kit,” said Thomas. He seemed to be scanning the crowd for someone. James suspected that Thomas was seeing someone or, at the very least, had a crush on someone, but he wasn’t familiar enough with the crowd of third years Thomas usually hung out with when he wasn’t with them and he’d never had the chance to ask him.

“Well,” said Kit, “I didn’t come all the way here to watch Matthew make out with half of the bar.”

Tom and Kit kept talking back and forth about Matthew’s romantic escapades, but James had stopped listening. He was scanning the crowd as Thomas had done earlier, hoping to not see the one person he was avoiding at all costs.

That was when he saw _her_.

The first thing James noticed about her was her hair. It stood out in the white lights of the bar, a vibrant, dark shade of red that was even more striking for its uniqueness. It reminded him of rose petals. It was beautiful; _she_ was beautiful, and his breath caught in his throat. Her hair was unpinned, spilling down against bare brown skin. She was wearing a bronze dress that was doing nothing to dull her beauty, and it twirled around her as she danced. She was too far away for him to see her face properly, but she was smiling, and James thought she had the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

James couldn’t bring himself to look away. He was aware that Thomas and Christopher were arguing lightheartedly next to him and he sometimes hummed in agreement when he registered their words, but his entire attention was arrested on her. She was spinning around gracefully and laughing with her friends. James kept watching her, entirely unaware of his own behaviour, until he finally noticed that she was looking back at him.

He blinked. He’d been staring, he knew that much. From the look on her face, though, she didn’t exactly seem to mind. James couldn’t read her face properly, not from this distance, but he could see a soft smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. James felt a flush crawling up his neck and he suddenly felt ridiculous. The whole situation was ridiculous. She was just some girl at a stupid party for freshers and he was getting flustered for no reason. She was still watching him, though, and he was watching her back. He wanted to—

“Gentlemen”, shouted Matthew over the loud music. He was walking toward their little group with several shot glasses balanced precariously in his hands. Thomas and Christopher cheered next to him as Matthew deposited the shot glasses on the table they had gathered around.

“What are we drinking for?” asked Christopher as each of them picked up a glass.

Matthew looked thoughtful for a moment. “To new beginnings”, he said finally, raising his glass. “To making better choices.”

Matthew looked pointedly at James while he said that last part. James rolled his eyes and downed the shot of tequila. Matthew’s arrival had snapped James out of his reverie, and as he tried to shake off the effects of the tequila, he felt slightly annoyed. He looked out into the crowd again to where the girl had been dancing, but she was gone.

James turned his attention back to his friends. Matthew was gesturing animatedly while he told them about the blonde girl he had been making out with until he’d learned that she was actually 17 and had somehow managed to sneak into the bar with her flatmates. That hadn’t stopped Matthew from trying to find out all the gossip about the incoming generation of freshers, and it seemed that the girl hadn’t been short on information.

“Uh,” interjected Christopher, looking out into the crowd. “Look who’s here.”

James followed his gaze and he felt sick to his stomach. Grace was walking into the bar, her chin held high and a slightly disgusted smile plastered on her face. Next to her stood Matthew’s older brother, of all people. He was talking incessantly in Grace’s ear, though to her credit, she was mostly ignoring him. She was making her way through the party with Charles in tow, and the crowd seemed to part for her as if sensing her general disgust of them.

“ _Ugh_ ,” said Matthew, watching them go. Christopher was frowning, while Thomas was busy making the occasional disgusted sound. “The creep’s back at it again.”

“She’s not underage,” pointed Thomas. He still looked disgusted.

“Just because she turned 18 five minutes ago doesn’t make it less creepy.” Matthew glanced at James. “You alright, Jamie?”

“Fine,” James muttered, though he was far from fine. He felt ill. He had hoped against all hope that he wouldn’t see her tonight. James had been the one to break up with her, after his friends’ many complaints that she was making him more miserable than happy and the suspicion that she was cheating on him. They had been right, of course, and James knew that he had made the right decision, but that hadn’t made it any easier. He had broken up with her at the beginning of summer and hadn’t seen or talked to her since. Still, he’d known that she would attend his university, and he would be bound to see her sooner or later.

He just hadn’t expected to see her so early on in the year.

James felt his friends’ gazes still on him, so he tried his best to compose himself. He smiled faintly in their direction. “How about another drink?” he asked them. “Next round’s on me.”

Matthew grinned brightly, though James could tell that he was still worried about him. James started to make his way to the bar without another word. James ordered another round of shots, but in truth, he had no desire to keep drinking. He needed the distraction, though, he needed to do something, _anything_ , to keep his thoughts from drifting to Grace. He hadn’t thought about her all summer. He was determined not to start now.

“Next round’s on you?” someone asked from his right.

James turned. Leaning back against the counter next to him was the girl from the dance floor. Up close, he could notice details about her that he hadn’t been able to before. Like how her eyes were a fathomless black, so dark he could almost lose himself in them. How the strands of hair that framed her face curled ever so slightly from the heat. It took all of his efforts to keep himself from pushing those strands away from her face.

“Something like that,” James replied.

“Well,” she said, leaning closer so he could hear her over the music. She smelled of jasmine. “Someone has to do God’s work around here.”

“You got sent too?”

She showed him the receipt in her hand. “My friends are determined to get trashed, and there’s a deal on Jäger bombs that they just can’t resist.” She shrugged. “I personally think they’re disgusting, but I got outvoted.”

James smiled. “You and I are fighting the good fight here.”

She smiled back. She was looking out into the crowd when she suddenly frowned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you usually have girls stare at you so intensely?”

James whirled around. On the other side of the room, Grace was standing next to a table with a bunch of other people and was staring at him. Charles was there too, with an arm thrown around her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was watching him talk with the girl with mild curiosity. James’s stomach turned, but instead of feeling sick, he felt furious. Furious at her because she couldn’t stop from trying to control him, even now. Furious at himself because he couldn’t shake her off.

The girl had shifted her attention from Grace to him and was waiting for him to say something. James shook his head. “I actually know her,” he said, turning his back to Grace.

“Ex of yours?”

“Yeah,” James said bitterly. “I’m sure she’s gathered all those people around her just to paint herself as the victim of this whole breakup.”

The girl raised her eyebrows at him but was silent for a moment. Then she reached out and took his hand into hers. James stared dumbfounded at her as she smiled. “Let’s give her something to complain about, then.”

With that, she started leading him to the dance floor. James was so shocked he didn’t even put up a fight. He was mildly aware that somewhere in that room Grace was still watching them, but he couldn’t focus properly with the girl’s hand in his.

They were now standing in the center of the dance floor, still holding hands. The music picked up and people were dancing around them, but he didn’t pay them any attention. Distantly, he thought about his friends and how they must be wondering what was taking him so long, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much about that either. He could only stare helplessly at the girl in front of him.

Neither of them was dancing. They just stood there looking at each other. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he instinctively slid his hands to her waist. The party around them was still going, the other students shouting as the DJ turned the music even louder. The lights had dimmed considerably, and in the near darkness the girl’s hair was the only colour that stood out. James desperately wanted to reach out and tangle his fingers in it. She leaned forward; their faces were mere inches apart. James was barely breathing.

“Kiss me,” she said breathlessly.

And he did.

The kiss was light, tentative. Their lips were barely brushing. Then she arched against him, and whatever self-control he had left was gone entirely. He opened his lips against hers, deepening the kiss. She smiled against his lips as she tangled her hands in his hair. His own hands were running down her back, across the material of her dress and her bare shoulders. She was warm and soft against him and James lost himself entirely into it, into _her_ , as they kissed and kissed.

And if his heart did strange things in his chest as he kissed her, it was only for a moment, and he could pretend it hadn’t happened at all.


	2. the library incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is for herondaisy nation. happy valentine's day, loves! <3

_prompt #2: neither of us bought the expensive textbook but there is only one copy in the library and it can’t leave the building_

Cordelia Carstairs was _not_ having a good day.

Her Tuesday had started out like any other Tuesday. It was the one day of the week when neither she not her three flatmates had lectures in the morning, so they had decided early on in the term that they’d turn Tuesdays into Pancake Day. Each week, one of them was in charge of making the pancakes for the entire flat, and they’d try out the most random toppings and catch up on gossip. It was one of Cordelia’s favourite times of the week.

This particular Tuesday, it had been Lucie’s turn.

Lucie, who was already notorious for being the worst cook imaginable.

“Oh, come on,” Lucie had complained. When they’d found Lucie in the kitchen that morning, already taking out pans from the cupboard, Cordelia and Ariadne had exchanged one concerned look and had immediately proceeded to try to talk her out of it. Lucie, in her characteristically stubborn manner, was obviously hearing none of it. “You’re all always in charge of cooking. Let me do it for once.”

Ariadne had not looked convinced at all. “Are you sure about this?” She had gestured to the rest of them. “Any one of us can do it in your place. I’m sure nobody would mind.”

Lucie had turned around, hands on her hips. “That really won’t be necessary, because _I_ know how to cook too, thank you very much.”

Cordelia had been about to point out that no, she most definitely did not know how to cook, not even something as basic as pancakes, when Jesse had stepped in. “Let her do it,” he had said, smiling indulgently at Lucie. Cordelia suspected that he had developed a crush on Lucie sometime in the past two weeks, because there was no other reasonable explanation for why he’d side with her when he was just as aware as the rest of them that Lucie was a disaster in the kitchen. “What could go wrong?”

It had been the wrong question to ask.

Precisely thirty minutes later, the four of them and the rest of the students living in their accommodation had been gathered in the courtyard of their building because Lucie had somehow managed to set off the fire alarm. Cordelia had no idea how that had happened. One minute, Lucie had been pouring the pancake mix into a pan and had seemed to have it under control, and the next their entire kitchen had been filled with smoke to the point where they had been choking on it. Nevertheless, that whole fiasco had ended with them shivering in the cold for almost an hour before one of the staff members had allowed them back inside to their flat, threatening to fine them if something like this happened again.

It had also been unanimously decided that Lucie would never cook again.

After that, Cordelia’s day had naturally gone from bad to worse. Several hours later, she had found out that one of her essay deadlines was much sooner than she had originally thought, and so far she had done none of the work for it.

This was how Cordelia found herself at the library that evening, feeling quite sorry for herself. Usually, she loved studying in the university’s library, mostly because it was this massive Gothic building that made her feel very pretentious and important whenever she was there, but the ambiance was not having its usual effect on her that day. She put her head on the desk in front of her and groaned loudly. One of the required readings for her essay was from a textbook she couldn’t find online, which meant that she’d have to spend at least half an hour hunting it down in the library.

With another groan, she got up from the desk and started scouring the library. Cordelia had a general idea of where the textbook would be, but it took her three different tries before she managed to locate the shelf it was supposed to be on. After another ten minutes of looking at the spines, her eyes finally landed on the textbook she was looking for. Feeling victorious, she reached out to take it from the shelf, when she felt someone else’s hand brush against hers.

When she turned to her right, Cordelia found _him_ standing next to her.

An entire month had passed since Cordelia had last seen the boy from the bar, but she would recognise him anywhere. Nobody else had eyes like his, a startling and luminous shade of gold that was more beautiful for its uniqueness. That was the first thing she’d noticed about him when she had caught him looking at her that night. Not that the rest of him wasn’t equally as beautiful. She supposed she should think of him as handsome rather than beautiful, but handsome didn’t quite fit his sort of looks. His was a beauty of contrasts, all black and white and gold. He had been beautiful in the near-darkness of the bar, and he was beautiful now, under the fluorescent lights of the library, dressed all in black.

Cordelia cursed herself silently. She didn’t have time to linger on how beautiful he was, because he was reaching for the same textbook she was.

It was also the only copy in the entire building.

“Excuse me,” she said, breaking the silence that had settled between them as they both assessed the situation they found themselves in. “What do you think you’re doing?”

That snapped him out of his reverie. “What?”

Cordelia pointed to the textbook. Their hands were still brushing on the spine of the book. “I’m trying to get to that textbook and you’re in the way.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, I need it.”

“What a coincidence,” said Cordelia dryly. “So do I. Too bad I got to it first, so…” She trailed off, expecting him to do the polite thing and take his hand away from the textbook that she was obviously entitled to. 

Much to her annoyance, he started laughing. He still hadn’t moved his hand. Under different circumstances, Cordelia might have allowed herself to focus on the softness of his skin or the strange feeling she had in the pit of her stomach when she looked at him, but her anger was quickly winning out. She tried to snatch the textbook away from him, but he was faster than her. He took it off the shelf and held it behind his back. The only way she could take it away from him was if she made a fool of herself, and judging by the amused look in his eyes, he was very much aware of that too. She would not give him the satisfaction.

Cordelia chose to stare daggers at him instead. “Give it to me,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Now, why would I do that?” he said. He had the audacity to actually look smug.

She had the overwhelming urge to slap him. “Listen,” she began in the most gentle tone she could muster. “I was obviously here first. You reached for that textbook _after_ I did, so that means I get to keep it and use it and you get to wait for me to return it and use it then.”

He shook his head. “I have an essay due in a week. I kind of need it now.”

“Huh. Mine’s due in three days.”

He smiled at her. “It’s not my fault you left your essay to the last minute, is it, Daisy?”

Whatever response she had been prepared to give him was forgotten instantly. She could only stare at him incredulously as an awkward silence settled between them. “ _Daisy_?"

He looked as startled as she felt, as if he hadn’t meant for that nickname to slip out. He composed himself quickly, though. “Your necklace,” he said, pointing with his free hand to the base of her neck. “You were wearing that the last time we saw each other too.”

Cordelia reached out instinctively to brush her fingers against the daisy pendant. The necklace had been a gift from her father some years back, for the endless daisy chains she had made that one summer they had spent living outside of Paris when she was younger. She loved the necklace dearly, despite her complicated feelings for her father, and she had never taken it off since.

“So you decided my name was Daisy?” Cordelia demanded. She tried to ignore the realisation that he most definitely remembered her from the bar. If she allowed herself to think about that, she was sure her cheeks would turn bright red.

“Well,” he said, scratching his head. “I don’t actually know your name.”  
  
She huffed. “My name’s not _Daisy_. It’s Cordelia.”

“Alright, _Cordelia_ ,” he amended with a smile. “We seem to have reached an impasse.”

Two things happened at once. First, Cordelia noticed that he had a dimple that flashed whenever he smiled, and she felt her heart flutter. Then she got irrationally angry, both at her traitorous heart and at him. How _dare_ he? They didn’t know each other at all, but they had shared a kiss a month ago. (Several of them, most likely. The memory of that night was fuzzy around the edges, but she was fairly certain that she had spent at least an hour in his arms.) The very least that should have earned her was some politeness.

“You know what?” Cordelia said at last. “Fine.” She raised her hands in defeat. “You win. You keep it.”

At that, he stopped smiling “Wait—“ he began, but she had already turned on her heel and strode out of the room.

As she left him standing there, Cordelia realised that she had told him her name, but she didn’t know his. She ignored the pang of sadness she felt at the thought of that.

***

Several hours passed before her hunger finally won over and Cordelia decided it was time to head home. As she was taking out her student card to leave the library, the guard came up to her with a book in his hands.

It was the textbook she needed.

“Some guy left this for you,” said the guard as Cordelia took the textbook from him.

“How did you know it was for me?” she finally managed to ask after a long moment of silence.

“He said to give it to a redhead with a daisy necklace,” he said. “You seem to fit that description alright.”

The guard left, and Cordelia stood for a moment there, not quite believing what was happening. He had actually left the textbook for her. She laughed despite herself, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand to make herself stop. The _audacity_ of this guy. She tried to hold on to the anger she had felt earlier, but Cordelia found herself smiling all the way home.

When she opened the textbook later that night, Cordelia found a post-it stuck on the first page.

_You need it more than I do._

_—James_


End file.
